Author's Note:

The abiku is a spirit in Nigerian folklore. It is also known as an ogbanje depending on the local dialect. It is believed to enter the bodies of unborn children and cause them to die. While it is generally perceived as a more malevolent spirit, I portray it in a more sympathetic way here.

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It is night-time in the village.

The molasses-thick air clings to one’s skin.

Ghostly firebugs perform their nightly dance

About the grass and reeds.

A pitiful cry is sent up,

Up into the infinite pool of black.

 

It is I, Abiku.

It is I, the Transitory.

I live in the Crossroads.

And I must escape.

 

My anchor is hooked in deep.

Deep, safe and secret.

It is this which holds me fast,

Fast to the Borderlands between Here and There.

 

 

You score me,

You slash me,

You cut notches from my flesh.

Yet you have no concept of your actions.

I am beyond you, yet with you.

I am transcendent of your Plane,

Yet restrained to It, as you are.

Restrained as if by splinter-clad tent pegs.

I am bound upon the Borderlands,

Suspended from a Thread

Over the fine line between the Worlds

By forces external.

By forces out of my power.

Your gashes will not remove me.

Nor will your goats, hens, or coins.

Things of the Earth are insufficient

To sever the threads of the Spirit.

 

Such is My cycle:

The world of Men,

The world of Spirits

And I,

Existing in both,

Yet unable to effect any sort of permanence

In either.

Unable to live out my due time.

Unable to make even the smallest of marks.

 

Now, you must see.

You must see why I brave the knives.

You must see why I cast away the offerings

In favour of a brief life.

You must see why I bind myself to the sickly new fruit,

Why I bind as an objectionable leech

To the only other as close to the Borderlands as I.

It is I that brings them forth to their Next Life,

To their rightly-deserved rest,

Away from a life of sickness and suffering,

While I take their place

In this One.

 

Any liberation from the Transitory Places

Is enough.

Any chance to Break Free.

Any chance to breathe a few Breaths.

Any chance to Feel,

To Feel some sensation

Beyond the listless Tides,

The numbing Waves

Of the Between Place.

 

It is I, Abiku.

It is I, the Transitory.

I live in the Crossroads

And I must escape.